Beauty Seen is Never Lost

When I was young, I twirled around the rusty garage pole, gripping it so hard with my hands, refusing to let go. Round and round. I twirled. Waiting for the world to blur in my eyes. And when it did, I stopped abruptly. My black dirty feet rooted to the ground.
Fascinating
The world rotated. Danced. Mutated. And then rotated back and stood still. All in a second.
Brilliant
The power I had. The power I had.



When I was young, I sharpened my pencil every few seconds, escaping the tormenting stares of the math workbook. I stood by the bin and watched the curl become longer and longer. More curls. 4+9=?. More curls. 7-13=?.And more curls. The bell rang. My pencil wasn’t striped anymore. Nothing but a sharpened tip.



When I was young, I stroked the brush on the white canvas. Up and down. Right and left. A dark grey blob was what I painted. I tried the red and then the green. The yellow. The blue. and the blob grew bigger, darker and uglier. It could be a boat. Or a cat. Or a sock. Or it just couldn’t be. All I wanted was a swing.



When I was young, I hid under the kitchen sink and waited. Water dripped onto my eyes but I remained still until I heard my name.
“The game ended you win, come out”I smiled and got up. Yelped as my head crashed into the sink.
bitter victory



When I was young, I poured water into the pot and stirred, watching the bubbles pop and form. I added more ingredients..twigs, pebbles, leaves. And more soil. I stirred and stirred until the brown mixture became softer and smoother. No one held pretence; no one tasted my chocolate mousse.



When I was young, utopia was possible

Posted by Diddlina at 6:18 AM